Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OCs, and most of them are heavily inspired by mythology.


"Better to have one woman on your side than ten men."

The Great Hunt, Robert Jordan


'Vick,' Sookie elbows her sharply in the ribs, jolting her from her reverie, 'you're starin'.'

Loki rubs her side, quirking an eyebrow at the blonde. '...and?'

'It, well, you...' she splutters, 'it's rude.'

'Sookie, if he didn't want to be stared at, he wouldn't be sitting in a throne.' She bumps shoulders with the other woman with a slightly lewd grin. 'He's quite a dish, right?'

Bill stills to hear the answer to that, but the telepath wisely changes the subject.

'All anyone's thinkin' about here is sex, sex, sex.'

The dark-haired vampire smiles. 'One needn't be telepathic to pick up on that.'

Over on the stage, Pam glides towards the Viking and leans down to whisper in his ear. When he tilts his head to glance in their direction Loki is struck by the fluidity of the movement. It's the careful, warning way a predator moves when hunting for its prey – one that speaks of awareness of every muscle and bone and utter purpose – but she meets his ocean blue eyes unflinchingly with a determinedly neutral expression, intrigued by how he will react to such an openly challenging gesture.

She's the one to break the eye contact first after a drawn out moment of eye-contact, but is both satisfied and unsurprised when Bill tenses minutely.

'Uh, oh.'

'Don't say "uh-oh."' Sookie reprimands with a high, nervous chuckle. 'Vampires are not supposed to say "uh-oh."'

Loki snickers because it's true, and Bill's frown deepens.

'We're being "summoned".' She informs the telepath calmly, pre-empting his explanation – Sookie just looks more agitated by the explanation.

'By who?'

'Eric.'

Sookie blinks, turning to Bill with raised brows, indignation forgotten in the face of curiosity. 'He can do that?'

'Yeah.' He concedes, not sounding pleased at all.

So he is the Sheriff – Loki had supposed as much from the throne and its very deliberate position above and away from the crowd, but the confirmation in Bill's words is satisfying. She likes knowing what she's up against.

Across the room, Eric raises his right hand and motions them over, every inch the austere ruler of his own kingdom. Bill takes Sookie's hand to guide her through the throngs of dancers, and Sookie snatches Loki's wrist at the last moment to keep them all from getting separated. They all step up onto the dais, standing before him; Sookie is shaking gently in nerves, and Bill is absolutely still, but Loki is so at ease she could be lining up in the supermarket.

The situation reminds her of the first time she encountered a fully-grown Siberian tiger on her first hunt with her father in Midgard over three-thousand years ago. "Show no fear," Odin (1) had commanded in a stern whisper, "and you will not be seen as prey." Loki supposes it is a fairly accurate parallel.

'Bill Compton.' The Viking acknowledges their chaperone with a nod, his voice a deep rumble. 'It has been a while.'

Bill shifts uneasily in the face of Eric's emotionless stare. 'Yes, well... I've been– '

'Mainstreaming.' The older vampire finishes for him. 'I heard. I see that is...'

Eric gives Loki such a thorough once-over she feels like she should be blushing, then does the same to Sookie – who does blush.

' ...going well for you.'

'Yes, of course. Uh, sorry.' Obviously slightly flustered, Bill gestures to the telepath. 'Eric, these are my friends–'

'Sookie Stackhouse and Victoria Storm.'

Loki doesn't react to his knowledge, but Sookie jolts. 'How do you know my name?'

'I never forget a pretty face.' Pam answers for Eric, pointing to her temple and smirking. 'You're in my vault.'

The part-fae gulps, smile weakening a tad. 'Great. That's just great.'

Both blonde vampires turn to Loki in almost eerie unison, staring at her expectantly. Obviously, they want her to react – to freak out over the big, scary vampires - and she knows should play along for the sake of appearing average, but... she had never been good at doing what was best.

"Show no fear..."

So she merely quirks an eyebrow at them both – Pam's jaw almost drops open in surprise.

'Our little zoo is starting to grow,' Eric comments to Pam in flawless Swedish and the woman smirks. She must be his lieutenant, Loki muses, or possibly his progeny. for them to be conversing so comfortably in another language.

'I know.'

Sookie and Bill exchange a confused look, butLoki – aware of just how accurate the description of the supernatural smorgasbord in Renard Parish is – can't contain a huff of amusement, inadvertently drawing attention from the three vampires. She very pointedly doesn't look at anyone, but doesn't dampen her smirk even when the weight of Eric's stare on her skin is like a physical touch.

'Miss Stackhouse,' he addresses the telepath eventually, 'I understand you've been asking questions about some of my customers.'

'Yes, I have.'

'If you have anything to ask,' the leather upholstery of his chair creaks as Eric leans forward, 'you should ask it of me.'

Sookie hands the Viking the Polaroid's, and he studies them carefully, before humming in acknowledgment and confirming that – though he'd met them both – he'd only ever "tasted" Dawn.

'I remember 'em both.' Pam adds.

'On account of the vault?' Sookie pipes in daringly, and Loki pretends not to notice the tense silence as she chuckles. Stackhouse hasguts, even if openly mouthing off to powerful vampires is ill-advised. 'Well, thanks, but that's all I need from y'all...'

'I'm not finished with you yet.' Eric cuts in, his very pores oozing the command and making Bill tense even as the Viking attempts a reassuring smile. 'Please. Sit.'

Reluctantly, Bill and Sookie do so; Loki looks expectantly at the Sheriff when she notices there are no more chairs to sit in.

Eric gaze if full to the brim with challenge when he pats his lap pointedly.

And oh, he is so full of ego – Loki has always loved a narcissistic alpha male. But she's a hardly a wilting flower herself so, of course, she squeezes onto the edge of Sookie's chair. The waitress obligingly shuffles over to make room, and there's a sharp flash of... something in Eric's face – amusement, Loki suspects – but it is gone as quickly as it appears.

But his eyes don't leave hers even as he addresses Bill. 'So, Bill. Are you especially... attached to either of your friends?'

The younger vampire growls. 'Sookie is mine!'

'Yes. I am his.' The blonde confirms, lifting her chin proudly. Loki is left to ponder somewhat despairingly when being claimed as property became something to be proud of.

Eric just smiles like the cat who caught the canary. 'And Ms Storm?'

'She...' Bill falters, shooting her a wide-eyed glance. Loki very nearly sighs in annoyance - Sookie's boyfriend has a very irritating habit of acting like a knight on a white horse, and Loki hasn't needed saving in a very long time – but refrains from commenting, maintaining a firm grip on her neutral expression.

'Well, well,' Pam zooms to her side when the silence begins to stretch and twirls a lock of raven hair around a finger, voice a seductive drawl, 'seems you're free game.'

Loki smiles blandly up at the beautiful vampire. 'I prefer to think of myself as "my own".'

Eric and Pam exchange amused looks – the ones that read "oh, look at this silly human" – but resume conversation with Bill.

Pam doesn't stop playing with her hair, though. Loki doesn't mind much despite the dangerously close proximity of the vampire's hand to her neck and the reflexive indignation at being petted like an animal; playing with hair is probably as non-threatening as Pam ever gets.

Then a shiver chases down Loki's spine, and her head snaps suddenly to the crowd. There's an odd tension filling the air – the whisper of cool wind in the calm before the storm – and it sets her on edge immediately. 'Sook,' she whispers, nudging the part-fae, 'something's wrong.'

Pam's hand stills.

Sookie tilts her head curiously, but scans through the thoughts of the crowd without question, and almost immediately the telepath's eyes widen.

'We have to get out of here.' She blurts, cutting Eric off mid-sentence.

'Sookie...' Bill shoots her a warning glance and, seeing he'll be no help, she turns to the Sheriff.

'Eric, the cops are coming. There's gonna be a raid...'

Now this gets his attention.

'You're not an undercover cop, are-'

'I'm not,' the telepath assures quickly, 'but that man in the hat is.'

Eric studies her face for a long moment, gaze flicking to Loki for a moment before he relaxes back into his chair. 'Even if you're right, we do nothing illegal here.'

'There's a vampire named Taryn in the ladies' room with that man you kicked before. She's feeding on him.'

Loki knows Sookie's words are true – now she's concentrating, she can actually sense the bloodlust from her seat – but the information makes both Pam and Eric tense.

Loki is honestly surprised that none of the numerous vampires in the room had caught the scent of freshly spilled blood. So much for superior senses.

'How do you know this?' Pam demands tersely, but the main door flies open with a bang before Sookie can even open her mouth to explain.

'Freeze!'

The room is quickly flooded of cops, and some fangbangers start screaming in panic. On stage three vampires, one part-fae and an Æsir mage are caught in almost serene stillness of disbelief – until Eric stands.

'Follow me.'

Sookie has latched onto Bill's arm, looking scared, but Loki is more than a little surprised when Eric holds out his palm for her to take.

She stares up into his face with fathomless green eyes, and it feels as though the world holds its breath as she reaches out to take his hand.

Her life-magic flares and twirls with his own (2), a beautiful clash of gold and a deep almost-black colour that reminds Loki of the twilight sky devoid of stars. It's hypnotizing, and she idly thinks that it's a shame she's the only one to see it.

But then she's being yanked out the back door of Fangtasia and into the warm night air, Eric drops her appendage, and all that's left of it is the burn of light on the back of her eyelids and pins and needles in the spot where their skin had met.

'I enjoyed meeting you, Ms Storm, Ms Stackhouse. You will come again.'

He and Pam disappear into the dark in the time it takes to blink, but Loki hadn't missed the odd light in Eric's eyes as he said this, and she knows it probably doesn't bode well for her continued peaceful existence.

(She should probably be disappointed; as it is, all Loki feels is a foreign burn of anticipation.)

xXx

Loki doesn't give Eric Northman more than passing thought in the next few days (as fascinating as he is, she does work full-time), so is surprised to find Bill on her doorstep some days after the trip to Fangtasia.

'Hey,' she says, raising both eyebrows, 'nice to see you.'

This is... not strictly true. The last time she had he'd glamoured a cop and thoroughly freaked out Sookie. Loki isn't naive enough to expect much better from vampires when faced with prejudiced law-enforcement, but Bill had been acting like a bit of an ass.

'Ms. Storm,' he greets, solemn and gentlemanly mask perfectly in place, 'I'd like to apologise for my behaviour the last time we saw each other – I hope it did not scare you.'

His words are almost scripted, so she figures quickly that either Sookie put him up to this, or it's a ploy to win the telepath's favour and the question of why he is trying so hard to gain the silly fairy's attention lingers. Curiouser and curiouser.

Still: it's none of her business either way.

'It's fine, Bill,' she assures casually, tone a little wry, 'I have met vampires before, you know.'

'But you must know I am different to others – I am not a savage who glamours all in my path. I merely lost my temper.'

'Of course,' Loki nods, humouring him.

Bill's shoulders relax minutely at what he takes to be acceptance, and returns to his stoicism briskly. 'Will I be seeing you at Descendants of the Glorious Dead meeting later?'

'Uh, no, sorry,' she shrugs, 'I'm working.'

He nods stiffly, and zooms away from her house at vampire speed. Loki chuckles a little once he's out of sight, turning back into her home; Really, imagine her in a church, listening to a vampire tell tales of the Civil War. Funny.

xXx

The news of Adele Stackhouse's murder makes Loki feel guilty.

She'd never met Sookie's "Gran", but she knows that the woman was well loved and incredibly important to both her grandchildren.

Loki sighs and runs a hand over face. Mortals are so fragile, but the reminder always prompts a swell of grief in her stomach. She has made – and lost – many friends and lovers over the years. Loki is a substantially powerful being, but even she can't bring the dead back to life.

(Well... in theory she could, but meddling with Hel was ill-advised and reincarnation would require borrowing her cousin's powers. Loki's knows better than to even consider it.)

She hadn't gone to the funeral – honestly, Loki hates them – but she had offered to cover all of Sookie's shifts until the telepath was ready to go back to work. The blonde had told her over the phone that she was thankful but would be working as normal, tone strangely chipper.

And then she arrives at work with a green scarf around her neck, and Loki sighs quietly.

The people of Bon Temps will not be kind.

So when the inevitable happens, and Sam rips the green scarf from Sookie's neck, exposing her fang marks, Loki wants to face-palm.

'Hey, you keep your hands to yourself, Sam Merlotte!'

'You're a damn fool, you know that?' he spits back at her, seething.

'What I do on my own time is no concern of yours,' Sookie glares at the on-looking diners, raising her voice, 'or any of y'all's. Yes! I had sex with Bill, and since every one of y'all's too chicken to ask, it was great! I enjoyed every second of it. And if you don't like that, you can just fire me!'

Sookie storms away, slamming her tray onto the bar with a crack. At the very least, Loki thinks, it had taken serious guts to announce it so proudly.

But she supposes it's her job to do some damage control.

'You're a fucking idiot,' she informs her boss, tone blasé, as he stomps towards his office. He rounds on her with an almost-growl.

'What?'

'Someone in this town is murdering women who have slept with vampires,' she reminds him sternly, 'and what do you do? Scream Sook's business for the whole bar to hear.'

Sam's jaw is clenched, but a flash of uncertainty crosses his eyes. 'I... I just want her safe!'

'Yeah, well,' Loki rolls her eyes – the idiocy of men – and grabs a glass of ice tea from the side table, 'think before you act, boss, coz you just put her in even more danger.'

She flounces back to work with a slight frown, ignoring the niggling urge to knock some sense into her boss's skull.

Predictably, the gossip spreads like wildfire, and by the time the sun sets almost everyone in Bon Temps is aware that "Crazy Sookie" has slept with a vampire. The telepath handles the whispers and the disgusted looks with remarkable grace, though, soldiering on as if it were a normal night at Merlotte's.

Then three vampires enter the bar with a whoosh, and Loki gets the feeling that the evening can only go downhill from here.

The oldest, dark-haired vamp – Malcolm, Loki plucks from Sookie's head – approaches the bar with a slimy smirk. 'Get us three Tru:Bloods.'

'Y'all need to go somewhere else.' Sam shoots back, muscles tensed. 'This is a family place. Locals only.'

All three of them laugh darkly. 'Well, we just closed on a place up the road, so that makes us official citizens of Renard Parish. We're the new locals.'

Everyone watching inhales sharply, but the shifter stands his ground.

'My place, my rules.'

'Discrimination against vampires is punishable by law in the great state of Louisiana. Personally, I don't give a fuck...' Malcolm looks around the room with a dangerous sneer. '...but I ...am...thirsty.'

Sam comes round the bar to stand before the vampire, growling. 'You. Are. Not. Welcome here.'

The vampire in the hideous gold dress – Diane – laughs mockingly. 'That shit only works in a private home.'

Almost simultaneously, they notice the part-fae waitress standing in the dining area. 'Oh! How nice to see you again, Sookie!' Malcolm saunters over, coming to a halt an inch away from the unsettled blonde. 'You are looking delectable as always.'

Sam blanches. 'You know them?'

'We've met.'

'Well, well!' The trio of vamps notice the bite marks on Sookie's neck, and sneer. 'It looks like Little Miss Holdout has given up the goods. Brava! Did he leave enough for the rest of us?'

Sookie tilts her head, jaw set defiantly even though her hands tremble imperceptibly at her sides. 'I am his.'

'Well, "he" is not here, is he? And while Bill's away, Malcolm will always play.'

The vampire drops-fang, and everyone watching flinches. Loki knows this situation could end in a slaughter – three vampires could easily drain most of the occupants of the restaurant – and she moves briskly to stand by Sookie's side.

'Sookie has been acknowledged as "Bill's" by the Sheriff.' she informs Malcolm calmly, and he falters minutely.

'That so?'

The telepath shoots her a wide-eyed look of confusion – as subtly as possible, Loki shoots an image of Eric Northman into her head, and Sookie immediately regains some confidence and nods.

Then the bald, tattooed vampire – Liam – scoffs. 'He ain't my sheriff.'

'Really? Coz, you did just say you'd moved into the area.' Loki reminds in her best smart-ass tone, making his scowl deepen.

Loki looses a wisp of her magic, and it curls around them, a stream of blue smoke twisting around their heads. "Leave," it whispers, "and don't come back."

Mind control is difficult even on humans, and with vampires it can be outright unpredictable; when she sees the retreat dawning on their faces Loki gives a mental sigh of relief. But then Terry screams and charges at Malcolm, eyes wide and crazed. With lightning speed, Diane grabs Terry and throws him across the room, landing on the pool table with a dull thud. Sam breaks a pool cue in half over his leg, pointing the thick part of it toward Malcolm, who laughs dangerously.

'You are a dead man.' He purrs.

Sam shrugs, grip his weapon only shaking a little. 'Maybe. But I'm gonna take one of y'all with me.'

Well, fuck. Loki can't help but wonder if anyone ever taught the shifter the difference between courage and stupidity.

Sam charges at Malcolm, but the makeshift stake is snatched deftly from his hand and hurled like a javelin to the stack of glasses behind the bar. Arlene screams in terror as Liam hauls Sam on his back over the bar, meaty hand clamped around his jaw.

'I'm gonna reach down your throat and yank you inside out by your dick.' The bald vampire purrs, fangs gleaming eerily.

'Please! Leave him alone!' Sookie cries – Loki grabs her by her shoulders to stop her from running over.

But then Bill appears, and the blonde in her arms sags with relief.

'Stop this! Now!' Liam hesitates before reluctantly backing away from Sam. 'You're here for me, not them!'

Malcolm shrugs as though he hadn't just been about to drain the whole bar. 'We had to get your attention, and I do believe it worked.'

'What do you want?' Bill barks.

'You never call me back. Now, if I remembered what feelings were, mine might be hurt.'

Diane is abruptly at Bill's side, stroking his cheek seductively. 'Join our nest, Bill. Forget these blood sacks.'

Loki watches impassively as Bill leaves with them, spouting some rubbish about "being with his own kind", and squeezes a heartbroken Sookie on the shoulder before moving over to her boss.

'Are you hurt?'

He runs a hand through his hair. 'I'm fine, cher,' he throws her a look of fond concern, all previous animosity forgotten, and reaches out to squeeze her upper-arm, 'but you shouldn't have gotten involved. It was dangerous.'

'Yeah,' she concedes, then raises a raises a sarcastic eyebrow, 'dangerous like trying to stake 'em?'

His lips twitch. 'Touché.'

xXx

Loki goes home with Lafayette that night – the two of them have more sleepovers than twelve-year-old girls – and she collapses onto his sofa while he heads straight to the liquor cabinet.

'Woo, Sook's crazy to have anythin' to do with those fangers,' he breathes. She shrugs.

'Mm, maybe,' Loki breathes, excepting the offered glass of tequila with a nod of thanks, 'I think they're kinda like people, though.'

'What'choo mean?'

Lafayette settles on the armchair opposite her, regarding her seriously and sipping straight from the bottle.

'Well, they aren't good, or bad; shades of grey, you know?' she tells him plainly, then smirks, 'Even if maybe there's more darkness in them than most humans.'

He laughs, and raises the bottle in a toast of agreement. 'Say... you know 'bout vamp politics and shit, right?'

She hums in agreement. The truth is, Loki probably knows more about the vampire government than the human one – it didn't change as often.

'Then, what would they do... to someone sellin' V?'

Loki stares at Lafayette very seriously, and when he resolutely avoids her gaze, she sits up abruptly.

'Shit,' she breathes in a whisper, 'you're not.'

'That bad, huh?' He murmurs with a smile of fake bravado.

How did she miss it? She knows that Lafayette works his ass off to keep his schizophrenic mother in a decent care-home, knows he's a dealer. Vampire blood is the drug of choice these days – it would only be logical to assume he sold it, too, but she hadn't even considered it. It makes her feel like a complete idiot, and worse, a shitty friend. 'You need to stop.'

He kisses his teeth. 'Bitch, I know,' he draws a joint from his pocket, lighting it smoothly. 'but at least I ain't hooked like Stackhouse.'

Loki groans in disbelief, flopping back on the sofa. Jason fuckin' Stackhouse needs V like he needs a hole in the head.

'There's so much fucking drama in this town,' she grumbles, 'small towns are crazy.'

He huffs in amused agreement. 'Damn straight.' He hands her the spliff, which she inhales readily, but he slumps. 'But fer real; what would they do if they knew?'

Loki blows out a ring of smoke, eyes fixed on the ceiling and in deep thought.

'You don't want to know, Lala,' she comments grimly and pretends not to notice his sharp inhalation of breath, 'but I'll protect you if they come after you.'

Lafayette laughs it off like it's a joke, but Loki wiggles her fingers in concentration as she weaves a tight protection spell and sends it floating his way. It settles on his skin like oil, and he shivers as if someone just walked over his grave. To her eyes only, his skin flares with light as his own power stirs at the intrusion of foreign magic – she is struck, once again, by the astounding potential of the man across from her (3).

But, besides Lafayette's remarkable and mostly untapped power, he's her only real friend in Bon Temps; she isn't about to let him get killed for something as inconsequential as selling drugs.

'You gonna give me that make-over or what?' She demands after a moment, killing the tense atmosphere stone-dead. Lafayette tuts, jumping to his feet.

'Yeah, yeah, princess,' he calls over his shoulder, 'you iz spoiled.'

Loki laughs uproariously – he has no idea how true the pet-name is – but pushes herself up to bound after him.

'I'll give you a pedicure as a prize for putting up with me.' She promises sweetly, and he leers down at her, slapping her backside.

'Just pay me wit' your body, baby,' he wiggles his eyebrows, 'I could put you on my 'site.'

Loki gives a mock-outraged squeak at the proposal, hand flying to her heart dramatically. 'Please, as if I'd get down and dirty for anything less than ten grand.'

'You may be hot shit,' he tells her dryly, 'but you ain't that hot.'

She grins and playfully shoves his shoulder, and when the coat of protective magic flares around her hand, halting any pain or bruising, Loki is content in the fact that at least one person in this town is safe.


(1) Odin is the ruler of Asgard, a principle member of the Norse pantheon, and my OFC!Loki's father. There is a lot, and I mean a lot, of information surrounding him on the net, but the general consensus is that he's older than most other Norse gods, has one eye and is crazy powerful. He is sometimes called Wodan, or simply the "All-Father".

(2) I just want to clarify the topic. In this fic, everything has "life-magic", and while Loki can sense it all, it is particularly strong in vampires and other supes, so it's more prominent.

(3) This is a bit of a S3/4 spoiler, but I didn't want to ignore Lafayette's power completely. If Jesus can sense it in Season 3, then it makes sense that Loki knows about it now.